A Walk in the Woods
by jsandoz
Summary: Extensively studied and inexcusably overlooked. All of the little moments leading up to Nesting Dolls that Grissom didn't miss, but didn't get either. Based on the beginning of Hansel and Gretel. Spoilers up to 5x13. GS pre R
1. Prologue: White Pebbles

**An: While this story isn't a romance in itself, to me, it shows an important part of the overall love story. This is also the story of the deterioration and resurrection of a friendship. Chapters will range from short to extremely short. Spoilers for 5x13: Nesting Dolls.**

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_January 2005_

He had the feeling that came when he knew he had every piece of information but one to crack a case and couldn't see how the pieces fit together without it. The only thing he knew for certain was that somehow, somewhere, he had screwed up. Badly, and probably more than a few times. And he had thought that for once when it came to Sara, he was doing something right.

But it wasn't about him, he realized. It was about her, and even though she had been doing better lately, something was off, had always been off. Some part of her was damaged and he had never seen it for what it was. It had always manifested as symptoms that were excusable as something else. He had known her for years without knowing that he didn't know.


	2. A Problematic Solution

**Spoilers 1x02: Cool Change**

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_September 2000_

An internal investigation? Grissom looked at the other man with a sick feeling in his stomach. Chances were, it would be someone who already had their mind made up or someone so green that they could be manipulated so that their conclusions suited those in charge. The man was still speaking. "…sending Michael Collins. But of course if either of you have a contact outside who is qualified, I would be more than happy to accommodate you." He smiled unpleasantly.

He knows we don't, Grissom thought angrily. Nobody I know could come in on such short notice. He looked over at Brass. The other man seemed pale and his hands gripped each other tightly but Grissom couldn't tell if it was nerves or rage. Everything had just spiraled out of control. He had come into work excited to have a new student and looking forward to replying to an email from Sara. Now the student was on the brink of death and—Sara. She was qualified and the San Francisco crime lab owed him a few favors. Would she come? He knew that she loved a challenge, but even for her, dropping everything and flying out might be a bit much.

There was only one was to find out. He spoke up. "I have a contact at the San Francisco crime lab."

"San Francisco? We don't have that kind of time."

"If they can spare her, she could be here by tomorrow."

"And she is qualified to conduct an internal investigation?"

Grissom's eyes narrowed at the slight emphasis on the pronoun, but he refused to rise to the bait. "Sara Sidle is a trained investigator and she would be the last person to skirt the truth to spare someone." Even me, he added silently. But he trusted her. If she told him what he didn't want to hear, he would at least know that he was hearing the truth, not just the next step in someone's private political agenda.


	3. With Strings Attached

**An: In response to your question nick55, nothing in this story occurs after 5x13. Since most of the R really came later, it won't be here. As for the R that came before, you might see a little if you squint really hard. :) I won't cover most of those episodes though.**

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_September 2000, 30 minutes later_

He pulled out the slightly crumpled business card that had been sitting in his desk drawer since last year. He had only ever used the email address scrawled on the back. They had never called each other. He punched the number into his phone. Her supervisor had been more than happy to say yes but had left it up to Grissom to ask her.

She picked up on the third ring. "Sidle."

"Hello. Sara, it's Gil Grissom from Vegas." He winced at his delivery.

"Grissom?" She sounded surprised. "I was expecting an email," she teased, "What's the occasion?"

"Actually, I'm asking a favor." He laid out the details for what seemed like the 100th time that night.

"I'll have to clear it with my supervisor."

"Already done."

"In that case, how soon do you want me?"

"How soon can you get here?" he asked, disbelievingly.

"Seriously? Well the airport is about 30 minutes away. Give me another 30 here and an hour to get through security. In theory, I can be in the air in two hours."

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. I'll call you back with your information."


	4. Just Like That

**An: Contrary to my lie by omission in the first three parts, I do not in fact own CSI. Ha! I bet I had all of you fooled! ;)**

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_September 2000, 5 days later_

"I have a proposal for you Sara. You don't have to decide immediately."

She looked up from the stack of paperwork she had to fill out to close the investigation. "Oh?"

"We're a CSI short. More than that since I'm taking over for Jim. We don't have the time or manpower to find someone new and keep up with the current caseload, and frankly, I don't think another novice would be a good idea."

Her grin had slowly grown to light up her whole face, but she waited for him to finish spelling it out.

"Your supervisor might kill me for taking you, but the spot is yours if you want it."

"I'll need to give two weeks notice and I might get called back to testify."

"Just like that?"

Her smile twisted downward and for a brief moment she looked pained. "Just like that." The look disappeared and her smile came back in full force.


	5. Impossible Dimensions of a Man

_September 2000, 2 weeks later_

"Hey, Grissom?"

He looked up to see her standing in the doorway of his office. By the half-smile on her face, she had been there for a while. He noticed that she made no move to hand him the stack of forms she was holding. "Is there a problem?"

"What? Oh, no." She shuffled through the papers for a moment before handing him all of them but one. "I just wanted to check, is it alright if I list you as my emergency contact?"

That was it? "Of course. That's fine."

"Alright, thanks." She looked down at the paper, frowned, and didn't move. "Uh…could you? I don't know—"

"My information? Here." He held out his hand and she gave it to him. He automatically filled in his information and was about to file the form away with the rest of them when he realized there was another problem. "Sara?"

"Yes?"

"You need more than one contact."

She grinned and he could tell immediately that it was forced, though he didn't know why it would be. "List yourself twice?" she asked hopefully.

He tried to answer her failing attempt at humor. "I would if I could, but even I can't be two people at once. What if I'm not available?"

Her smile was definitely flagging. "Then whoever is there will deal with me until you are."

"Look, Sara, they can be out of state," he said, thinking that might be the problem for the freshly transplanted Californian. "They just need to be someone to call, a family member, or something."

"Or something." She took the form back without a trace of a smile, scrawled something on the second set of lines and handed it back.

He squinted as he tried to decipher her handwriting. "Scott Mason? Your supervisor from San Francisco?"

"Yes," she said tersely, her tense stance daring him to call her on it. He backed down.

"Ok." She turned to go. "Sara?" She looked back. "It isn't that I mind. I don't mind. Really."

When she smiled it was very small but genuine. "Thanks Griss. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

After she left he puzzled briefly over her reaction, but shortly filed it away for future consideration and went back to work. It was nothing out of the ordinary really. Nick and Warrick both had him listed on their emergency forms too. But both men had family members in the other space, he reminded himself. He looked at Sara's form again. The names of two supervisors, one in his own hand. Her normally cramped script was more illegible than usual and spiky with the emotion that had filled her tense shoulders and sharpened her voice. An emotion that had seemed like anger and yet…wasn't. He sighed and cleared the complications from his desk and his mind.


	6. Nothing for Someone

**An: Just a warning, I'm going on vacation until the week after next. This will be the last update until I get back.**

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_November 2000_

He entered the break room at the start of shift and cleared his throat. "Okay, I've got the final shift schedule for Christmas."

Four interested faces turned to look at him. Make that three, he amended. Sara displayed only polite attentiveness. Unlike the others, she hadn't put in any request for holiday time off. He turned his attention back to the task at hand. "Nick, you've worked almost every holiday for the past four years."

Thinking that Grissom would again utilize his general willingness to work all holidays, Nick tried to hide his disappointment. He had requested time to visit family for the first time in far too long.

Grissom broke the tension. "You have from the evening of the 23rd until next year. Don't come back until the second." He smiled at the joyful shock on Nick's face. Next he turned to Catherine who hid her hopefulness better than Nick. "Catherine you have the 24th off and you'll be on call starting at noon on the 25th. Warrick, you'll be on call until Catherine is." He looked at Sara. She was gazing mildly out into the hallway, but her head snapped around when he said her name. "You'll be on until your regular day off which will fall on the 27th."

She smiled. "Okay."

Warrick turned to her. "Thanks for doing this Sara. I'll swap you the next holiday."

"Thanks for the offer." She sounded slightly surprised by his peace offering. "I really don't mind though."

"Alright everybody," he said, calling their attention back. "I've got something for everyone this evening."


	7. Plastic or Pyrolysis?

_March 2001_

She shook her head, her face a mixture of incredulous humor and revulsion. "Just when you think you must have seen everything…"

"That's Vegas," he replied as he gathered his things.

"Nah, Vegas is just concentrated insanity," she countered. "That's the entire human race."

He smiled faintly. "Before I started this job I might have disagreed with you. What happened exactly?"

"We have reusable coffins now, since it's such a cutthroat business. When I die, I want to be cremated."

The sudden turn of conversation threw him off balance for a moment. He looked at her, hoping for a clue, but her face and manner remained unchanged. "Is that a serious request?" he finally asked quietly.

She turned to face him full on and seemed to appraise him carefully. "Yeah it is. I mean, you never think it's going to happen to you, but you never know, do you? Especially with this job." The bang of her locker slamming shut startled him. "Goodnight Griss." She gave him a last smile and walked out the door.


	8. When Christmas Freezes Over

_Christmas 2003_

"No Sara, you can't," he said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. They were arguing again. It seemed like they only spoke to argue these days. "You've already maxed out on overtime for the month and today is your regular day off." She opened her mouth to protest and probably point out his hypocrisy. He had worked more hours than she had and he was supposed to be off too. He cut her off. "It's Christmas."

"So?" So much for heading her off. Her glare was fiery and mutinous, but at least she wasn't calling him out—yet.

"So take a vacation. Spend some time with family. Celebrate."

"There isn't anywhere I want to go. I celebrate holidays by helping people, and family?" She took a deep breath and he realized that he had broken their unspoken rule that he wouldn't ask about family, a rule whose existence he hadn't really acknowledged before. He could tell that he had hurt her by asking, and in the middle of the lab where he was her supervisor and she had to take it. He wished that she would yell at him instead. An angry Sara was formidable, but by far preferable over a hurt Sara. It seemed that if they weren't ignoring each other or arguing, he was hurting her, over and over.

They had stopped in the middle of the hallway facing each other and he saw the moment when she sealed the fracture in her armor and her resolve returned. "I do spend time with family, every year. I am right now, or at least I'm trying to." She raised her arms and let them fall. "This is my family, so let me work Grissom."

She had him in a corner and he knew it, but he tried to minimize it. He shrugged. "Alright, we've got two week old decomp waiting for us in a cellar. Merry Christmas Sara."


	9. Slow Sucker

**An: As some of you may have noticed, I skipped some episodes that are very central to this story**.** That would be Sex, Lies and Larvae and Too Tough to Die. The decision of whether to write on these two episodes is the reason this story sat on my desk for two months. In the end, I decided that they speak for themselves and trying to re-render them here would only take away from that.

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_February 2004_

He was leaving a routine sample collection and on his way to his office to get started on the time line when Brass waylaid him. "Hey Gil," he called, "can I talk to you for a minute?"

Grissom changed his course for Brass's office. "What can I do for you Jim?"

Brass motioned for him to shut the door. Grissom raised his eyebrows and complied. His interest was piqued and he noticed that Brass appeared slightly uncomfortable.

"Have you talked to Sara recently?"

"I see her every day."

"That's not what I asked." When Grissom opened his mouth to reply, Brass held up his hands. "Look Gil, I'm not trying to tell you how to run your team. I'm just saying that I think she could use a friend right now and you're probably the only person she might allow to be there for her.

Grissom frowned. "I'll look into it."

"You do that. You've got a great team," he added, "I'd hate to see you lose any one of them."

"So would I Jim."


	10. Stone Tears

_May 2004_

She didn't look at him when he sat down next to her. She only acknowledged his presence by returning the pressure of his hand. When he said "I'll take you home," she simply nodded once.

The drive to her apartment probably rated among the top three most silent car rides of Grissom's experience and he couldn't remember the other two. She breathed so quietly that he might have mistaken her for dead were it not for the periodic blinking of her eyes. He wondered if she was trying to become invisible or just vanish from the vehicle altogether. He guessed the latter. It would have been his wish in her place.

His restless thoughts more then compensated for the lack of noise in the car, however. He wanted to shake her, hold her and kick himself all at the same time. He wanted to yell "What were you thinking? You could have died!" but he had some idea of what she had been thinking, and as for life and death, at that moment she didn't appear to care much one way or the other. He wanted to ask "Why didn't you talk to me?" but he already knew the answer. She had talked to him. He had pushed her away, passed it off as her being overly competitive or over talking, told himself that it was just one case, that she would get over it…

He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to do this. That he would be there for her instead, but he was afraid that he wouldn't be and terrified that she wouldn't let him. He wished that he had listened to Brass the first time.

He pulled into a place at her apartment building and they sat in the thick, stifling silence for a few moments before Sara unclipped her seat belt. He scrambled for something to say before she got out and left. Tomorrow he would have to be her supervisor, but tonight he could try to be her friend. "I'll pick you up in the morning so you can get your car."

"I can take a cab," she replied dully. It was the first she had spoken. She opened her door and got out. He unbelted himself and followed her.

"Let me do this, as a friend."

She laughed humorlessly. "You still feel the need to specify, don't you? God Griss, I can take a hint. You don't have to be afraid of _that _anymore."

He swallowed the sting of her words and pushed past them. "I know you can do it yourself, but you don't have to. Let me help you Sara. It's ok to let people help you sometimes."

"No Grissom," she said, her voice utterly dead. "It really isn't ok to let people help. The more you let them help you, the more they have to use against you. I do have to do everything myself. That's just the way it is."

"Do you really think that I'd do that to you? Help you and then hold it over your head?"

"I don't know what to believe!" she burst out, finally breaking her dead tone. "It's always on my head! And it doesn't matter what either of us thinks at this moment anyway. That's what will happen, what always does."

He waited a moment to make sure that she had finished, then said quietly, "I wouldn't"

"Damn it Grissom," she whispered brokenly, abruptly turning her back on him and tilting her face up to the night sky.

"You don't have to be an island Sara."

"That's funny Griss," her voice cracked on his name, "coming from you."

They stood in stillness broken only by passing cars. He knew that she was crying, but her back was ramrod straight and her shoulders were still. He wondered at her control. He walked up behind her, hesitated a moment, then placed a hand on her shoulder. She tensed and he wondered if she would hit him, but she gradually relaxed and leaned back into him slightly.

"We were friends," he began, "but I haven't been doing a very good job on my end for a while. I'd like to try and fix that, if that's acceptable."

"I—" She shook her head and stepped forward, away from him. "I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll be here." He understood that she wasn't ready to believe him, but it was a start. "Goodnight Sara, take care of yourself."

She nodded and began making her way toward the stairs. "Goodnight." He was almost to his car when he heard her say it. "Be safe."


	11. Death's Door

_September 2004_

He carefully set the pig down on a clean surface and began taking measurements of tissue depth. When he looked up from the decayed flesh to write down a number or check it against his control pig he could see Sara a few yards away, still meticulously going over her door. "I'm not a drunk and I don't have a death wish," she had said. But he was still concerned. He wasn't worried because as he had told her, there was a difference. Worry was what one felt when they couldn't or wouldn't do anything to remedy a situation. Worry was what he had felt a year ago after the lab explosion. Concern was what drove a person to act.

He had spent years worrying over Sara. It was like a loose tooth or an old wound that he couldn't leave alone. He was concerned now and the difference was liberating. He wasn't made to stand aside and let a problem go. That was part of why he had become a CSI. Now, instead of being helpless, he was being a friend, or trying to work up the courage to make the attempt again. He remembered her mask-like face and dead voice from only a few months before. He had earned the anger and hurt she had directed at him that night, but that hadn't made it any less painful to bear.

Sara Sidle was not a drunk, he would give her that. Looking back, he could hazily see when the problem had become present a few months ago. He could also compare and see that she was back to normal. No, he amended, not back. She had moved past. She wasn't quite the same. And as for the matter of the death wish…

It was lucky, really, that he had heard about it through Catherine first. He didn't know what he would have done if it had been Sara or even Warrick. By the time he saw Warrick, he was calm enough to see that his subordinate's usually unflappable cool was shaken. That was enough to keep Grissom from demanding why he hadn't dragged Sara bodily from the house. It was a good thing Warrick hadn't, he mused. He wouldn't want either of his CSIs to be charged with assault. Sara would not be one to be taken quietly anywhere she didn't want to go.

By the time he was confronted with Sara herself, the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shout "What the hell were you thinking?" had dissipated. He settled for the calmer "What were you trying to prove…"

He still hadn't entirely relaxed. The fact that she had taken such a risk at a moment's notice disturbed him. He looked at the dark head bent over green wood. _Your life is worth a lot more than a door with a few drops of blood on it,_ he told her silently. Sometimes, he knew she didn't realize it. In fact, he thought startledly, sometimes she would probably disagree. _How? How…_he grasped mentally, but wasn't sure what the question was.


	12. Cardiac Fracture

_Christmas 2004_

He hadn't meant to leave it to the last minute, but perhaps it had been his subconscious intention to miss her altogether. He was stepping out of trace when he saw her at the end of the hallway, walking with the determined stride that said she was leaving for the morning. "Sara," he called, "can I see you in my office? It will only take a minute." She shrugged resignedly and redirected her steps. He winced inwardly at his choice of words. The last time he had said that, they had returned to the lab hours later covered in insect bites and stinking mud.  
She appeared in the doorway looking wary and he retreated behind his desk. He picked up the book that he had carefully selected at home hours earlier and held it out to her. "You uh, expressed an interest. It's a very good introductory text."

She took it from him and her eyes lit up as she read the cover. "Thanks! I'll get it back to you as soon as I finish it."

She had misunderstood him. "No, keep it. It's yours."

"What?" Under most circumstances, the level of confusion on her face would have been comical, but it made something unidentifiable squeeze his chest painfully.

"Merry Christmas Sara," he said by way of an explanation. "I'm sorry I forgot to wrap it."

"Oh," she said quietly, looking down at the cover instead of at him. "Thank you," and then even more quietly, "Merry Christmas to you too Grissom." She turned abruptly and walked out the door without looking up. As she turned, he saw that her forehead was creased in a frown and her lips were nearly white. It was until he had spent another hour slogging through paperwork that he identified the sudden emotion that had seized him when she asked "What?" Heartbreak. The look on her face had been heartbreaking.


	13. Bread Crumbs

_2 days later_

From: Sara Sidle

To: Gilbert Grissom

Subject: Christmas

12/26/04 23:17:42

Hello-

Sorry about my rather abrupt exit last shift. I guess you just caught me off balance. I've really enjoyed the book and I have (just a few) questions, the first of which is, what should I read next?

-Sara

He puzzled over the message for a moment. This was the Sara he was used to, the one who had a million questions and was always excited to learn more. The Sara who was quick to bounce back and make one forget that she had ever had a moment of vulnerability, he reminded himself. He frowned as he tried to form a reply and decided to stick with the simple.

From: Gilbert Grissom

To: Sara Sidle

Subject: Re: Christmas

12/27/04 09:53:06

I think I have (just a few) more books that will interest you.

After the first time, I knew what I was getting into when I gave you that book. Fire away.


	14. The Lost Holiday

**An: In case it isn't clear, this chapter takes place 20 minutes after the prologue, not the previous chapter.

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_January 2005, 20 minutes later_

He wasn't sure when he had gone from holding her hand to holding her, but there were times when the simple pressure of fingers was no longer enough to hold a person together. He looked down at the dark head pressed against his shoulder. Her breathing was even again and slow. He thought that she might be asleep until she stirred spoke again.

"That's why I work holidays."

"I don't blame you." And he didn't, not anymore. In her place, he would have gladly worked on every day of expected "family time."

She pulled away from him and sat up. "It isn't just that I don't have family around. It was Christmas. It happened on Christmas Eve."

Grissom felt as if he had been slapped. It was too much to take in, far too much to process. Sara lived this, he reminded himself. You can listen to it.

"None of them wanted to be there," she continued. "The police, the paramedics, none of them. I was seven and I could see it. They looked at us, my brother and me, like we had chosen for it to happen then, like we had ruined their Christmas on purpose." She turned away from him on the couch and set her feet on the floor, her voice staying calm. "Working holidays now is about being with family, partly, but not entirely. It's also a gift to myself, my own way of celebrating. You see," she said, pinning him with the full force of her gaze, "when I work on a holiday, I know that those people are getting the same treatment, the same dedication and compassion that they would get on any other day of the year and I know that one more family doesn't have to feel what I felt. It doesn't make it better for them, but it doesn't make it worse either, and that's worth something."


	15. All the Way Home

**Thank you for reading. So long and goodnight.  
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_January 2005, 2 hours later_

Grissom sat in the parking lot at the lab and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. He couldn't believe himself. The signs were all there. They had practically been falling out of the sky and hitting him on the head and he had remained oblivious.

She had dropped everything and moved to a different state at a moment's notice and never went home for the holidays. In fact, she had willingly worked every one except for a single Thanksgiving when she had had the flu. She came in on her days off, beat him to scenes when on call, maxed out on overtime every month and only missed work for enrichment seminars. He had known that she had no social life outside of work. He owned that it was partially his fault. He even wondered when she managed to sleep, but he had never really asked why.

Oh on occasion the strength of her reactions had made him wonder if something had happened to make some cases so personal. He had considered rape or domestic abuse on a few occasions, but he would never invade her privacy so far as to check her files and how would he have asked?

He had also wondered about her family. He knew who made up the families of his other CSIs and had met quite a few of them, but all he had ever learned of Sara's was that she had a brother. They didn't discuss family a lot at work, but they were occasionally mentioned in passing. Except by Sara, who was utterly silent on the subject.

No family, no diversions, an unhealthy level of empathy, and yet her full disclosure had still shocked him. It hadn't surprised him because it fit exactly with his observations, but the abrupt and horrific violence had shaken him. He thought ironically that this would normally be the point in a case where he felt the triumph of full understanding, but he had been so blind. He only ached.


End file.
